


Forgetting (And Remembering) You

by pensversusswords



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Office, Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Katsuki Yuuri, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Viktor's Birthday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensversusswords/pseuds/pensversusswords
Summary: Yuuri isn't sure what's happening, but it's Christmas morning, Viktor Nikiforov is on his doorstep, and he has absolutely no idea what's happening.Viktor is a whirlwind, a force of nature, and Yuuri can't do anything but be pulled along with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO this isn't finished, but I was sad that I wasn't finished in time for Viktor's birthday, so I'm just going to post this bit, and post the rest within the next few days! I hope you enjoy! \ ^ ♡ ^ /

Yuuri startles awake and immediately regrets everything, because his mouth tastes like death and lingering traces of alcohol, and his entire body is thrumming with a faint but insistent ache. It takes him just a second to recognize the source of his discomfort: alcohol.  _ Lots _ of alcohol. The pounding throbbing between his eyes and the familiar dry feeling on his tongue leaves absolutely no question about it. 

There’s a heavy, unpleasant feeling in his chest, and he can’t help the groan that is pulled out of his lungs like air leaving a deflating balloon as he realizes that he truly can’t remember the night before.  _ Great. _

Yuuri really hadn’t intended to get drunk last night. Really. And sure, he probably should have been a bit more careful, but it was an accident.  _ Really.  _ It was.

Yet, here he is. “Fuck,” he croaks, and hates how even his voice somehow carries the aftertaste of champagne. 

Champagne. How did he manage to get himself this drunk on  _ champagne? _

He wracks his memory, but finds nothing solid or substantial there from the night before. He’d gone to a Christmas Eve party one of his colleagues hosted, and he’d absolutely not wanted to go, so it’s no wonder that he’d given in and indulged in a few glasses of the champagne that was flowing so freely. He wouldn’t have gone at all, if it weren’t out of a sense of obligation; he’d promised his boss he would go (after quite a bit of coercion) and he didn’t like to flake. Celestino meant well; “You’re new in the country, Yuuri, you should meet people!” he’d said. And maybe he was right, so Yuuri had said yes. Now he wishes he hadn’t, because he remembers his sixth glass of champagne and then nothing else after that. 

There’s a sharp and sudden sound then that makes Yuuri jerk ungracefully where he lies, and he takes a long moment of confusion to realize that the sound is, in fact, someone knocking rapidly on his door. 

Groaning again, Yuuri rolls over onto his side and reaches out blindly to the nightstand for his glasses, shoves them on his face and peers at the clock. 7:36 am. What on earth is anyone doing trying to knock his apartment door down at 7:36 am on Christmas morning? Oh, god, it’s Christmas morning. He’d forgotten about that, too. 

“I’m coming,” he calls out, even though he knows his voice probably won’t be heard. The person is knocking so the loud the noise fills the apartment, and his own voice sounds like he’d been chewing on gravel all night. 

He mumbles _ I’m coming, I’m coming  _ under his breath through the sleep addled and hungover fog hovering over his mind, as he shoves his legs into the first pair of sweatpants he finds. He doesn’t bother with a shirt, and runs a quick hand through his hair to push it back away from his face. It’ll do. If they wanted to see him presentable, whoever it is would have arrived at a decent hour. 

Yuuri almost trips over a pile of clothes on his bedroom floor as he makes his way to the source of the offending noise, wobbling on his feet until he reaches the door and his fingers find the latch. 

He flings the door open with the words “it is seven in the morning, what--” on his mouth, but they die on his lips as he freezes with his mouth hanging open at the sight on his doorstep. 

The sight being a certain Viktor Nikiforov, standing there in all of is silver haired, fair skinned, rosy cheeked glory, smiling so hard that the corners of his eyes crinkle a bit at the edges. He's wearing a stylish pea coat in a deep, deep purple, his hair ruffling around his cheeks in the slight wind. He looks absolutely and utterly out of place standing there in front of Yuuri’s door, but somehow manages to pull off an air about him that makes it seem like he belongs there. It’s the confidence, Yuuri figures. He’d pull anything off just from that alone, even if he weren’t the kind of beautiful you only hear about in fairy tales. 

But of course, confidence aside, he  _ definitely  _ does not belong on Yuuri’s doorstep. 

Why, Yuuri wonders frantically, is the man he’s only spoken to a handful of times yet has been mooning over since he moved to Detroit four months ago, standing on his doorstep on Christmas morning. 

"Hi!" Viktor says, lifting his free hand to wave at Yuuri. This is when Yuuri notices that there is a dog on the other end of the leash that Viktor is holding in his other hand. A sweet looking poodle, to be exact. She pants up at him happily, her head tilted slightly to one side. "Yuuri, good morning!"

Yuuri gapes silently, one hand still resting limply on the door handle. 

"Oh my," Viktor says now, his eyes not-so-subtly flicking down to Yuuri’s bare chest. “I wasn’t expecting quite the welcome, but I appreciate the view.” Then, because none of this was already weird enough, he winks, those crystal clear blue eyes twinkling at Yuuri.Between those brilliant blue eyes on him, the bright, sunny smile, and the teasing lilt in his voice, Yuuri feels like he’s either going to combust or melt into a puddle. Jury’s out on which. 

There's a long moment of silence then, an awkward moment of silence in the cool stillness of the air. Yuuri is suddenly all too aware of the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt and the cold is making his nipples hard enough to cut glass. 

“What are you doing here?” he blurts out. He’s glad that he’s still holding onto the door handle because he doesn’t quite trust himself to not fall over right now. 

Viktor looks at him quizzically at the sharpness in his voice, like  _ Yuuri  _ is the confusing one in this situation. “You told me to come over in the morning, but you didn’t tell me a time… sorry, is this too early? I was just so excited and me and Makka were up already anyways so I couldn’t wait any longer!”

Makka, Yuuri thinks carefully. The dog. Has to be the dog. 

“It’s not too early,” Yuuri says weakly, and he has absolutely no idea why. Not too early for what?  _ Why is Viktor here?  _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These aren't really chapters, I'm just uploading bit by bit as I finish, since I want it up ASAP!

The worried expression on Viktor’s face disappears immediately at Yuuri’s words, replaced with a relieved smile. “Oh, good!” he says. “Makkachin and I are always up early for our walk, and you said we could come whenever last night, so I thought we wouldn’t waste any time!”

“Right, of course,” Yuuri says weakly, like that makes perfect sense and he definitely remembers saying that.

Viktor stares expectantly at Yuuri for a long moment then, and Yuuri just stares right back, uncomprehendingly, until finally, “oh!” he says, completely aghast. He’s making Viktor stand out in the cold. He’s being _rude._  “Sorry, sorry,” he stammers, “would you like to come in? Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

Viktor laughs, all sunny and bright, and Yuuri feels his face heat. “It’s all right,” Viktor says easily, “I’d love to come in! Shall I crawl under your legs?”

“Oh!” Yuuri says again. He’s still standing in the doorway. His face must be aflame at this point. “S-sorry.” He wrenches himself out of the way and stands aside. He watches dazedly as Viktor steps in through the door and immediately starts to undo his coat.

“Your place is so cute!” Viktor says, passing his coat over to Yuuri as he peers around the room. Yuuri takes the coat numbly, watching as Viktor enter the small apartment like he owns the place. He’s wearing a thick, soft blue sweater underneath the coat, and amongst all the weirdness of this moment, Yuuri wants to reach out and touch it. It looks soft.

“I-It’s small,” Yuuri answers as he hangs Viktor’s coat up in the closet.

“Small and cute,” Viktor says grandly, turning to Yuuri with that million watt smile once again. “Cute like you!”

Yuuri chokes on air. He is absolutely, completely, undoubtedly dreaming right now.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to find a response to that comment. The dog—Makkachin?—barks then, tail wagging happily, and Yuuri is grateful for the distraction. “Hello,” he says, crouching down to lean back on his heels. Dogs make sense. Dogs don’t confuse him as much as handsome men who smile and flirt like it’s second nature. He knows how to talk to dogs. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “You’re very pretty.”

Makka barks in response and leaps forward at the sound of Yuuri’s voice. Viktor must not have had a firm hold on the leash, because all of a sudden Yuuri finds himself flat on his back with a wiggling puppy on top of him.

A laugh bubbles out of him then as he tries to halfheartedly defend himself from the onslaught of puppy kisses on his face.

“Makkachin, no!” Viktor leaps forward to try and grab her, but she’s far too wiggly and excited to be captured so easily. She helps happily as she dances out of reach and continues to kiss Yuuri all over his face.

“It’s okay, ah--it’s okay!” Yuuri says between breathy laughs. He wraps his arms around her neck and gives her scratches behind her ears, which just seems to make her even more happy.

“She’s not supposed to do that,” Viktor says with a heavy sigh as he finally succeeds in pulling her off of him. Makkachin whines and continues to squirm in his arms, panting loudly. “Sorry about that, she didn’t hurt you did she?”

Yuuri shakes his head as he pulls himself to his feet again. “No, of course not,” he assures Viktor. He reaches down to continue scratching her head, and her tail thumps happily against the floor. What an angel, Yuuri thinks.

“She likes you,” Viktor comments.

“I like you too,” Yuuri tells her very seriously. She barks her approval.

Yuuri is forced to look away from the distraction once again and return his attention to Viktor when he says “so!” quite loudly, demanding his attention once again.

“Chris didn’t have all of the movies we talked about last night,” Viktor explains as he rustles around in a bag that Yuuri hadn’t noticed him holding until this point. There’s the click of thick plastic bumping together as Viktor rummages.  “But I got as many as I could!”

Triumphantly, Viktor pulls his hand out of the bag holding three DVD cases that Yuuri has absolutely no recollection of speaking about with Viktor or _anyone,_ for that matter. _Love Actually, Home Alone 2_ , and _It’s A Wonderful Life_ , Yuuri reads on the covers as Viktor holds them up one by one. They sound familiar, at least. He’s definitely heard people here in America talking about them.

“Awesome,” Yuuri says weakly. Viktor Nikiforov is in his apartment, he’s shirtless, and apparently they have plans to watch Western Christmas movies together.

 _Shit,_ he’s still shirtless. He remembers all at once and suddenly feels like he’s stark naked. He feels an urge to wrap his arms around himself to cover as much as he can, but he knows that would look even more silly, so he forces to keep his hands where they are.

“I’m going to ah. Make some coffee. I have a bit of a headache,” Yuuri explains haltingly. “Would you like some?”

“I’m fine,” Viktor says, then gives Yuuri a pointed, amused look. “I didn’t drink half as much as you did last night.”

Ah, Yuuri thinks. Fantastic.

It’s one thing to get piss wasted in front of your coworkers, and a whole other thing to get piss wasted in front of your coworkers _and_ the guy you’ve been helplessly mooning over for months. What better way to get his attention?

Yuuri hears himself mumble something about being _back in a second, please sit and make yourself at home_ , before darting off to his bedroom to fetch clothes, leaving Viktor Nikiforov alone in his living room. Because somehow, that’s the morning he’s having.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays and, of course, happy Vikmas!!! The day dedicated to our dearest boy.
> 
> Come join me on [Twitter](twitter.com/pensvsswords) or [Tumblr](pensversusswords.tumblr.com)!


End file.
